


The Death of Sancha Tabris

by lavendermalibu



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Goodbyes, The Calling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendermalibu/pseuds/lavendermalibu
Summary: Warden Tabris goes to her Calling, Zevran is with her for some final goodbyes---The song was beautiful. It echoed in her mind, a song filled with longing and belonging, an emptiness in her heart it promised to fill if only she found the one at its source. The low tones shook her bones and the high ones played her heart strings. It whispered to her, a lonely call that promised her a comfort and companionship she had lost long ago. It felt familiar, it felt like home. How long had it been since she’d had a home? Too long. Much too long.





	The Death of Sancha Tabris

The song was beautiful. It echoed in her mind, a song filled with longing and belonging, an emptiness in her heart it promised to fill if only she found the one at its source. The low tones shook her bones and the high ones played her heart strings. It whispered to her, a lonely call that promised her a comfort and companionship she had lost long ago. It felt familiar, it felt like home. How long had it been since she’d had a home? Too long. Much too long. She closed her eyes and let it swallow her, let it surround her and pull her-

A squeeze of her hand brought her back to the present. “Focus, mi amada.” 

Zevran was there, the smile on his face did nothing to hide his anguish. He was there and he was real and it helped. “I’m sorry. It overwhelmed me again.” It was still there, dancing in the back of her mind, waiting to catch her unawares and whisper its sweet nothings into her very being.

“Don’t be.” She could tell that he was trying to hide his worry. She didn’t quite understand why. The time of worry had long past, the time for hiding it even more so. “I’m here.”

“You have the poison?” she asked, not for the first time.

“Yes, mi amor,” he answered, not for the first time either.

She felt the entrance before they could see it, felt the corruption coming from it. Felt the darkspawn deep within. They would feel her too. She wouldn’t have long to say her goodbyes.

As soon as they reached it, she unwound the scarf from her face and pushed down her hood. There was no need to hide it, they were utterly alone save for the swarming darkspawn somewhere within the gaping maw of the Deep Roads. There was no one to see what the Hero of Ferelden had become. She’d remembered when it had started, when she’d tried to hide the greying skin, the bloodshot eyes, and clumps of fallen hair. That time was long gone now. It didn’t matter anymore who saw the corruption overtaking her. Nothing mattered anymore.

This was the end.

The song pawed at her mind, ever present, ever pressing, calling for attention. She pushed it back with all her might. Soon she could stop fighting. Soon there would be release. She was so tired.

She held out her hand. “Give it to me.” Zevran pressed a small vial into her palm. It fit snug into a pocket sewn into the fabric of the scarf, right where her mouth would be. A failsafe. 

She stared at the scarf, stared at the colourless liquid in the small glass bottle. The way it moved inside was almost hypnotic, almost like it matched the song in her head, moving back and forth in the vial as the song swept back and forth in her heart. Ethereal yet of the deep earth, sweet bursts of sound like war horns in the distance only their sound promised but comfort and welcome-

Another squeeze. She took a breath to come back to herself. “I never should have waited this long.” There had always been more work to do, more excuses to put it off. She wanted more time, always more time. More time to spend with Zevran. She was already living on borrowed time, had been living on borrowed time since she drove that sword into the Archdemon’s head and survived. She’d had no right to ask for more time but Maker, she wanted more so badly. She would do anything for another week, a day, an hour. Why had she and Zevran spent so much time apart? Why hadn’t they been together every minute of every day?

For all her years as a Grey Warden she’d thought she’d be ready for this when the time came. It was her duty, after all. She’d known for two decades that this would be how it would end, just as it had for scores of Wardens before her. No matter what rank or skill or background, the Calling knew no bias. Every Warden who lived this long would die alone in the dark hearing the same sweet song.

She had prepared herself for this. She had accepted it as her inevitable end. This was her duty.

But now she was here, staring into the abyss, and her stomach twisted in knots of regret. Zevran pulled her into an embrace and she clung to him, fighting the urge to cry. She didn’t want to die, oh Maker, she didn’t want to die. Not yet. Not like this. If only she had more time.

She took a breath. She would not cry. Warden-Commander Sancha Tabris hadn’t cried when she’d left her Alienage, hadn’t cried after the Battle of Ostagar when all hope had seemed lost, hadn’t cried when she’d said her goodbyes to Alistair almost two year ago, and she would not cry now.

She could feel the Darkspawn coming closer, crawling from the deep to meet her and only her. She could feel her time running out.

It was unfair. Everything about this was unfair. Had she not given her all for the Wardens? Had she not nearly single handedly saved the world from the Blight while Ferelden would have been content to quarrel all the way to its doom? Had she not served the order diligently afterwards only to be rewarded with some field position weeding out darkspawn when she became an inconvenience to the Wardens? And had she not done her duty, still, for almost twenty years? Why was this the end? What justice was there in any of this? What justice was there in dying all alone deep underground surrounded only by filth and ruins and darkspawn?!

Listen to her now, rambling about justice and fairness. What was she doing? Is this what became of the proud Sancha Tabris in the face of the end? She was a disgrace to herself. 

 

She pulled back and leaned her forehead again Zevran’s. “I have to go. It is time.” Her voice was steadier than she felt. Her hands shook, her stomach was knots, yet her voice was steady.

“I should be going with you,” he protested. “You should not have to do this alone.”

“We’ve talked about this. Thedas needs you, Zevran, Antiva needs you. We knew this would happen.” She smiled all the smile that she could muster. For him. “And who else will make sure they tell my story right?”

Zevran laughed, a single hoarse burst that warmed her tired soul. “For you I will tolerate only the most glorious tales told by the most beautiful bards.” There was a pause. “Are you certain that this is how you want it to end?” Zevran asked. “You could- you could take the poison now. It would be quick and painless.”

“This is the way.” She was a Warden, and despite everything she was proud to be a Warden. She would meet an end worthy of one. “When have I ever taken the easy way out, Zevran?”

He returned hers with a sad smile of his own. “You are infuriating sometimes, do you know this?” 

She kissed him, soft and sweet with all the tenderness she could muster. A final kiss. A goodbye. Her stomach made knots, her hands shook as they held the embrace, the song snaked around her mind, but her resolve held. 

“Assassinating you was the luckiest thing that could have happened to me, mi alma,” Zevran said softly.

“Sparing your life was the best decision I’ve ever made, my love,” Sancha returned.

He embraced her again and she clung to him. For a moment her resolve melted, for a moment she considered staying in his arms forever. Then she stepped back and turned away. She tied the scarf around her face, lined the vial up just so, grabbed her bow, nocked an arrow, and stepped into the darkness.

And she did not look back.


End file.
